Immoral

by Nicole Dykes

  “Jenny? As in my agent, Jenny?”

  He chuckles, watching Grady out on the stage. “That one. She’s fierce, but she’s pretty damn funny too.” He shrugs. “Or maybe she’s funny because of how damn fierce she can be.”

  “It’s really weird that you two are friends.”

  He waves me off, clearly not giving a fuck what I think. “Eh, get over it because she’s too good to let go. Can’t have enough friends.”

  I laugh because it’s not said with malice, just matter-of-factly. “I suppose so. Although I’m not sure Grady and she will ever get along.”

  “You’d be surprised. Besides she really does have your best interest in mind, and Grady will respect that.”

  I snort because Jenny is a fantastic agent, but she’s looking out for herself, first and foremost. “Yeah, okay.”

  He turns to me now, his face dripping with honest concern. “We think we can get you exactly what you want, whatever that is.”

  A cold shiver runs through me as I glance at the stage briefly and then look back to Waylon, unable to voice anything.

  But he knows. “Yeah. That.”

  I don’t ask how. I know I have Grady. We’re in love and both stubborn motherfuckers. We’re going to make this work, no matter what. But how? That’s the question. Our careers. Our fathers. Society in general.

  Who the fuck knows?

  Although Waylon seems to have a pretty good idea.

  Instead of asking what Jenny and he have planned or have even been discussing, I ask a different question. “What’s it like to be out?”

  A slow smile spreads across his face. “Glorious. Freeing.” He’s still smiling big. “Scary as hell. But oh, so worth it.”

  I swallow hard, thinking about what it would be like, his answer giving me hope and lighting fire to the dream I’ve had for a long time.

  The concert ends, and before I know it, it’s just Waylon, Grady, and me in the dressing room. I’m on a high after watching Grady out there and my talk with Waylon. I want to do something with him. Something fun. Something public.

  “Let’s go to a bar,” I blurt out, gaining instant attention from Waylon and Grady.

  Grady steps closer to me, still being careful and not touching me even though we’re behind closed doors. “A what?”

  “I didn’t say a gay bar.” I haven’t completely lost my damn mind.

  Grady shrugs easily. “Hey, I’d do it.”

  I laugh. “I know you would. But I just meant let’s go get a drink. Celebrate a kickass concert.”

  “Okay.” He turns to Waylon. “You coming?”

  Waylon tosses his hands up. “Hell, no. I need my beauty rest. But please do me a favor and don’t give me any extra PR work, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Got it. No public blowjobs.” Grady winks at him, and Waylon groans, shaking his head as he leaves.

  We use the car service to take us to a nice bar downtown, both of us sitting at the bar and drinking beer. We don’t get sloppy drunk or even buzzed, but just hanging out in public is nice. I wish I could grab his hand or lean in and kiss him, but like I said, this is nice.

  It’s good to catch up and reminisce about growing up together. If anyone heard us talking, it would just seem like two old friends. Not lovers.

  Which, of course, makes me slightly bitter.

  I try to push it away, excusing myself to go to the bathroom and fighting with myself in the mirror as I wash up after taking care of business. It’s good. This is a step. We’re out in public together.

  So what if I can’t touch him the way I want to?

  I think about Waylon telling me that eventually, I’ll get what I want, being in a bar like this and being able to dance with him and hold his body close to mine. The thought of leaning in for a kiss and not worrying about damaging either of our careers has me taking a deep, relaxing breath and smiling at my reflection in the mirror.

  “Someday.”

  I walk out of the bathroom, which is in the back of the bar and instantly run into Grady. “There you are.”

  “I wasn’t gone that long.”

  One of his palms flattens against the wall behind me, half-caging me in, and I can feel the heat of his body rolling off him. God, I love him. “I was worried.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “No, you weren’t.”

  He grins, dragging one hand down my jaw, and when I swallow tightly, his finger trails over the column of my throat, his eyes hungry for me. “We should get out of here.”

  I nod in agreement, wanting him so goddamn bad. “Yes.”

  Before I can overthink it, I lean in closer to him, my lips brushing over his in the briefest of kisses. It’s only a moment, but I feel it every-fucking-where. “Let’s go,” he growls as we separate and go back to settle our tab.

  We climb into the car and make it back to his hotel, somehow managing not to touch each other. But as soon as we’re behind the locked door, our clothes are gone and our mouths are everywhere.

  We find ourselves in the bed with a bottle of lube as he gets me ready for him. His fingers probe my hole, scissoring and preparing me for a hungry, desperate fuck we’re both dying for.

  When I’m flipped over on my stomach, my arms holding me slightly up as he thrusts inside me, hitting deep and connecting our bodies, I feel whole. Every single part of me is filled, and my body thrums with pleasure. My hand reaches between my body and the bed and strokes my cock, chasing my release. I meet each thrust to bring him closer to his own euphoria. I feel only happiness, more content than I’ve ever been in my life.

  This is what I want.

  I want him.

  I’m exactly where I want to be. My head is on Ryan’s bare chest as we lay in the hotel bed, both of us totally naked and satisfied from the night before. Going to the bar last night may have been a little reckless, but fuck if I care.

  It was fun. Like old times, just us hanging out. Of course, we weren’t old enough to actually hang out in a bar back then, but we did have a small tavern that served as a restaurant and a place to play pool. We’d sit with cokes in our hands for hours, talking about nothing. It’s some of my best memories.

  And last night, we added another one.

  But my moment of complete contentedness at waking up next to him goes to shit when I realize what actually woke me up was a loud, repetitive banging on my hotel room door.

  “What the fuck?” Ry grumbles, turning over and shoving his face into the pillow, still not a morning person.

  “I don’t know. I set out the “Do Not Disturb” sign last night.”

  “Maybe they’ll go away,” he says, sleep still hanging onto him.

  “Open the fucking door.” Oh. Shit.

  Ryan sits up straight now at the sound of his agent’s shrill, authoritative voice. “What the hell? How does she even know where I am?”

  “You didn’t tell her?” I ask, partially amused.

  I stand up and pull on a pair of sweats as does Ryan, and he makes his way to the door where Jenny is still pounding away. “Hell, no. I knew she’d freak the fuck out.”

  “Good plan,” I say as he opens the door, and both Jenny and Waylon march inside, closing the door.

  Now I know how Jenny found us. I look at Waylon. “Traitor.”

  He doesn’t react. He just holds up his phone. “With good reason. I told you not to give me extra work.”

  I don’t know what he’s talking about until my eyes zone in on a blurry, dark picture on his phone. “Oh, fuck.”

  Ryan grabs it, going pale. “Fuck.”

  The picture, although low quality, is most definitely from last night. It’s of Ryan and me in that hallway outside the bathroom, my arm poised above his hand on the wall and our lips touching.

  “Yeah, fuck.” Jenny takes the phone, looking at the picture for what I’m sure is the hundredth time and then hands it back to Waylon. “Who do I kill?”

  “Me,” Ryan says immediately. “It was my idea to go there.”
/>   She shakes her head in disappointment, but I don’t let her tear into him. “It was definitely my idea to kiss him.” I think it was anyway. Really, it was both of us, caught up in the moment.

  “Don’t.” Ryan gives me a firm shake of his head. “I kissed you because I wanted it.” He turns back to Jenny. “I fucking wanted it.”

  His voice is strained, and it actually chips away at my heart, hearing him like that. And damn, it actually makes Jenny, the ice queen, soften ever so slightly. “I know, Ryan.”

  Waylon gently touches him on the arm. “We just need to sit down and figure out how to get ahead of this.”

  Ryan shakes his head but sits down on the sofa, followed by me sitting down next to him. Jenny and Waylon take a seat in opposite chairs. “There’s no way to, right? I mean, it’s out there.”

  Waylon nods. “It is. I’ve been tagged so many times overnight. And obviously, my followers are thrilled at the possible coupling.”

  I smile at that but keep it a small smile. Waylon may have more followers than me on social media. He’s a bright light in the LGBTQ+ community, bringing them hope and brightness every fucking day. He’s involved in several charities and youth programs. The man is an inspiration, having spent his entire career trying to help the world be a better place.

  But his face darkens now. “But that can also turn ugly fast. It’s not just on my page. It’s everywhere.”

  “Including in front of the bigwigs we have a meeting with soon,” Jenny says solemnly.

  “We can fix this,” I say even if I’m not completely sure. “I’ll say I was fucking around, that I kissed him as a joke.”

  Ryan winces, and I cringe because it’s not a fucking joke, and I know that. “No.”

  “Ry . . .”

  “No,” he says firmly. “That will make you look like an ignorant asshole.”

  “I agree,” Waylon says quickly.

  I shrug, knowing I’ll do anything to help Ry. “So? I’m used to playing that role. It’s no big deal. I’ll do the dance and apologize for being insensitive and for dragging you into it.”

  “No,” Ryan says yet again, a man of few words.

  “Ryan,” Jenny sighs, rubbing her temples. “Maybe you should let him do it.”

  “It’s not happening. I’m fucking sick of this.”

  Jenny, to her credit, isn’t yelling and doesn’t even seem to be freaking out too badly. Honestly, she just seems tired. “Okay, Ryan. How do you want to handle this? It’s a little over a week before our big meeting.”

  “Maybe I don’t give a flying fuck about that meeting anymore. Maybe I’m just done. I’m sick of this.” Ryan stands up, his entire body pulling tight with visible tension and anger. “I want to go to a bar with my boyfriend and hold his hand. I want to be able to kiss him in public without anyone batting an eye. I want to fucking love the man I’ve been in love with for years. Out. Loud.”

  Jenny doesn’t bite back. She doesn’t stand up. She stays in her chair with her back straight and a sympathetic look on her face. Waylon looks pained by Ryan’s speech, and I’m sure it hurts him deeply.

  But it hurts him nowhere as much as it slices me to my core. Because I want that so badly with him. I want to hold him and not worry about where we are when we do what we want to do. I want the freedom to kiss him and say whatever the hell I want to him without thought.

  “I want that for you too, Ryan,” I say, standing up and walking to where he’s standing, grasping his firm shoulders. “But I also want you to have your career.”

  “Fuck my career.”

  I’ve seen him go back and forth on his career, but I’ve never heard this kind of conviction coming from him about it. “Ryan.”

  “No.” He looks pained. “Maybe I don’t want this anymore. If I can’t freely be me, who I really am, without having to worry about my contract, maybe I don’t want it.”

  Jenny looks worried but not angry as I turn toward her. “Why don’t you guys go grab some coffee or breakfast. We need to talk.”

  Waylon stands, walking to stand next to her as she rises from her chair, not arguing with me. She looks to Ry. “I’ll back you, no matter what you want to do. If it’s going to the owners and telling them to fuck off, or if it’s coming out and me threatening them within an inch of their lives against any sort of discrimination, I’ll do it. You just have to tell me what you want.”

  Ryan doesn’t say anything, but I know he heard her loud and clear. And damn, I’m actually starting to like her.

  They leave, and I walk over to Ryan, who’s still in a daze. “You can’t quit.”

  “Yes. Actually I can. My contract is up.”

  “But you aren’t done.” I grasp his chin to hold his gaze. “You aren’t.”

  “I want you, Grady. Don’t you get that? I’m fucking done with this.”

  I see the anger in his eyes as well as the worn-out expression. “I know you are, but I’m not letting you give up your career for me.”

  “You say that like you’re nothing.” He shoves me away, not hard but enough to get space between us.

  “Hey, no.” I walk him toward the wall until his back hits it. “You don’t get to push me away. You don’t get to fucking run because things get hard.”

  He glares at me. “And you don’t get to be nonchalant like none of this fucking matters.” He throws my biggest flaw at me without a second thought, and I nod in agreement because I know this isn’t something I can brush off. It’s not going to just stop being a problem and go away on its own.

  I grab the back of his neck, pulling his forehead flush against mine. “Of course, it matters. You’re everything to me. You want out of baseball, fine. But if you don’t, and I know you don’t, then we find a way. You and me, we’re a given, not a choice. It’s you and me forever, no matter what happens or what is thrown at us. Do you hear me?”

  He nods. “I do. I hear you.”

  “I know you’re tired of this shit. I know you’re tired of not genuinely being yourself. I hear you. But I know you still love playing. I know you love the sound of the crowd chanting your name and your teammates’ names. I know you love the basics—the smell of the leather and the dirt, the fireworks going off above the stadium, the music. I know you love it. And I love you.” I tighten my hold on the back of his neck. “We’re going to make this happen.”

  And God help me, we are.

  I have no idea how Grady thinks we can solve this. It seems damn near impossible. They have a picture of us kissing. But even if there was a small amount of fear when I saw the picture, there was also relief, like I was let out of a cage I’ve been trapped in for years.

  Waylon, Jenny, Grady, and I had lunch delivered to Grady’s hotel room, and we’re sitting down to eat and discuss. No one is eating.

  “Okay, so what do you want to do?”

  I look at Jenny after her question and then turn to Grady. We didn’t make a plan. But he doesn’t answer for me. I turn back to Jenny. “Is it too late to negotiate with LA? With Bennett?”

  Her eyebrow arches only slightly, giving away her initial surprise. But before she can say anything, Grady apparently has something to say now. “You want to leave KC?”

  The nervous feeling I normally get when thinking about leaving isn’t there, not even a little bit. It’s what I know. I love and appreciate the fans, but I want to move on. I want it more than I could ever say. “Yes.”

  He looks stunned by my admission. “You don’t have to do this for me. We can work around this.”

  I shake my head, not wanting to talk it all out right now. I turn to Jenny. “Do you think that would be possible?”

  “I think that would be the easiest negotiation I’ve ever been a part of. You two just won the World Series together. Their team is shit at the moment.” Her lips purse like she’s carefully considering what she says next. “But are you sure this is what you want?”

  “I do.” I smile at Grady, hoping to lessen his concern. “I like the idea of being i
n the same zip code as you again.”

  That finally lifts his mouth into a fucking grin. “I like that idea too. But we both travel so much, does our zip code really matter?”

  “It matters,” I confirm quickly. God, I want this. I didn’t realize how much until now.

  Jenny stands, not bothering with her food. “Okay, I’ll go make some calls. Try to get it settled before the meeting. If all goes well, you’ll be signed with LA before they even get wind of it.”

  It feels dirty almost to do it that way, but considering they’ve been fishing around for new talent and have pushed off my negotiations, I’m kind of at the fuck ’em point. “Okay.”

  “And what about you two?” Jenny asks as she points at me and then drags that finger in Grady’s direction.

  I answer for him this time because I’m fucking done hiding. “We’re together. And once the ink is dried on the contract, we’re going out in public together.”

  “To make a statement?” Jenny doesn’t seem against it.

  I clear my throat, the prospect of making an official, planned-out statement still making my skin crawl. I look at Grady. “No.” He raises a questionable eyebrow, and I finish my answer, “But I’m not hiding shit. We’re going to go out to a restaurant or a bar or whatever the fuck, and if I want to hold his hand, I will. If I want to kiss him, I fucking will.”

  “But no public statement?” This time it’s Waylon with the question.

  Grady answers easily, always on the same page, “No, fuck ’em. I didn’t have to make a public statement when I started dating Vicky. They all just saw us out in public and assumed.”

  “But every interview you did after that, they asked about your relationship,” Waylon points out.

  “So, we’ll deal with it then,” I say, unbothered because I’m not going on social media and becoming the poster boy for out athletes. Do I hope this will start a change? Sure. Do I want to be a martyr? No.

  “Yeah. Casually.” Grady smiles comfortably. “I like it.”

  “I fucking love it,” I say with my eyes locked on him. And holy shit, it feels good. I know I still need to lay low until I get my contract executed, but this “scandal” is out there. If they sign me already suspecting I’m gay, chances are good they aren’t going to give a fuck.